


Kyle Calloway, Rock Star

by hwshipper



Series: The Chris 'Verse [17]
Category: House M.D., No Fandom
Genre: Casual Sex, Drugs, M/M, Open Relationships, POV Original Character, Polyamory, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-19
Updated: 2012-06-19
Packaged: 2017-11-08 03:33:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hwshipper/pseuds/hwshipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyle Calloway is the blast from Wilson's past mentioned in 8.20 Post-Mortem. Set during & after that episode, with flashbacks. </p>
<p><strong>Excerpt</strong>: <em> "I want a threesome," Wilson announced, his grasp firm on the steering wheel.<br/></em><br/><em>House responded with a curved eyebrow. "That's not much of a novelty for you, is it?"  </em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Kyle Calloway, Rock Star

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Confession](https://archiveofourown.org/works/413521) by [srsly_yes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/srsly_yes/pseuds/srsly_yes). 



> Builds on the portrayal of Kyle Calloway in srsly_yes's [Confessions](http://archiveofourown.org/works/413521) and yarroway's [Trespasses](http://yarroway.livejournal.com/28957.html), with permission and grateful thanks.
> 
> Disclaimer: All House MD characters belong to Heel and Toe Films, Shore Z Productions and Bad Hat Harry Productions in association with Universal Media Studios.
> 
> Beta: this fic srsly made fit for purpose by srsly_yes.

 

**Kyle Calloway, Rock Star**  
  
 _Present day_  
  
"I want a threesome," Wilson announced, his grasp firm on the steering wheel.  
  
House responded with a curved eyebrow. "That's not much of a novelty for you, is it?"   
  
"Two women," Wilson clarified.  
  
"Oh." A long-ago motel room encounter drifted before House's eyes: Wilson on his knees, another man's cock in his mouth, House taking him from behind. Yeah. Uh. Maybe Wilson _had_ never been with two women, although House found it hard to warrant. "Yeah, that'd be different."  
  
"You should know, with the hookers," Wilson said pointedly. "Anyway, I know they're probably overrated, and I'll probably be gravely disappointed, but I want one anyway."  
  
"No you don't." House was automatically contrary. Another memory assailed him; a Wilson sandwich, Wilson fucking the other man while House took him from behind. Like anything could match that.  
  
"Well, Kyle wants one," Wilson said stoutly.   
  
"Kyle's only one day old," House objected. "He doesn't know what he wants."  
  
But even as he spoke, House's mind moved on, thinking how he was going to set this up. For Wilson.  
  
The upcoming CT scan hung between them like giant fuzzy dice dangling from the rearview mirror.

  
_Fifteen years earlier_  
  
"I want a threesome," Edward declared, waving an expansive arm. The car weaved a little on the road.  
  
"You know Linus and Ravi will oblige you anytime." Chris, sprawled in the passenger seat, went for droll.  
  
"No, us and someone else," Edward explained, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "Someone new."  
  
"Oh." Chris felt a stirring in his groin. An Edward horny and adventurous enough to want them to pick up a stranger was an awesome prospect. "Cool."  
  
"We're on vacation. In South Beach. Must be possible," Edward carried on.  
  
It was always _possible_ ; the hard part was finding someone they _both_ liked. "Maybe this evening if we go to that club."  
  
"Yeah, the one with the live band." Edward nodded vigorously, his hair flopping over his forehead. "Let's go, it should be fun. Who are they again?"  
  
Chris picked up the flyer from the dashboard and looked at it idly; the headline read _KYLE CALLOWAY AND THE ROCKERS._ "Never heard of them."

  
_Present day_  
  
"And the stupidest thing, I never even had a crush on Julie Christie," Wilson said dolefully.  
  
House turned to peer between the bus seats.   
  
"In twelfth grade I was madly in love with Melanie Robbins," Wilson spilled. "But of course, there was this other guy."  
  
Of course there was a guy. There was always a guy. House had never known much about Wilson's sex life before med school, but obviously there had been men. Wilson had always been far too fucking good at blowjobs for there not to be.  
  
"A great guy," Wilson went on. "Very popular. He had a car. He had a band, a mustache…"  
  
House was filled with pleasure as the answer dawned. "Kyle Calloway."   
  
So, Wilson and Kyle, sitting in a tree. The picture was interesting enough to distract House from the elephant on the bus; the CT scan waiting for them tomorrow.   
  
And Kyle had a band and a mustache; as Wilson carried on talking, House mentally stroked his stubble and strummed an imaginary guitar. 

  
_Fifteen years earlier_  
  
The club was alright; more mainstream than Chris's own establishment, but gay friendly (you could hardly have a place in South Beach that wasn't). Chris enjoyed the beer and danced a bit with Edward. He liked the live band too. Their music was loud and rocked, with plenty of bass and drums. The lead singer had a smoldering voice to match his good looks.  
  
"He's winked at me twice," Edward insisted.   
  
Chris gave him a friendly nudge. "The singer? He thinks he's got a groupie?"  
  
"Maybe he has. Could you resist that mustache?" Edward returned the nudge.  
  
"Ziggy's the one who goes for mustaches," Chris protested, but in truth he did like the look. Kyle Calloway had a suave mustache, not too bushy, not too token, just enough to nuzzle against.   
  
A Rolling Stones cover heralded a break in the program. The other band members took their applause and vanished backstage, but Kyle Calloway came off the stage and headed toward the bar. A couple of women stopped him a few feet from Chris and Edward, and a snatch of Kyle's deep throaty voice filtered through the general din.  
  
 _"...love to, ladies, but I'm a happily married man..."_  
  
Chris raised an eyebrow; Edward shook his head, and muttered, "Swings both ways. Betcha anything."  
  
"If you say so." Chris shrugged a little and tried not to remember that Edward was also a married man.  
  
 _"...glad you're enjoying the show... look I've gotta go, have to say hey to some friends of mine..."_  
  
Chris didn't realize that they were the "friends", the excuse, until Kyle landed next to them. He hailed the bartender with a, "Hey! Beer over here," and then turned and said to Edward in a rasping voice, "Yo, Cute Lips. Enjoying the show?"  
  
"Yo, Kyle," Edward said, deadpan. "Yeah, it's great."  
  
"Y'know, I saw you in the audience and I thought you were someone I knew in high school." Kyle drained beer, and winked. "Then I realised you were cuter than he was."  
  
Edward smiled at that, and Chris found himself amused too.   
  
"Come see me after the show. You too, Blondie." Kyle winked at Chris this time. "My dressing room. Backstage. Tell 'em you're friends of mine. Gotta go."  
  
And Kyle put the empty bottle down and strode off back toward the stage. 

  
_Present day_  
  
Thank fuck they were back in New Jersey and could get off the bus; House had never been so glad to be able to use his credit cards.   
  
"Good thing we didn't need to go any further or my watch might not have covered the tickets," Wilson observed as House churned cash from an ATM.   
  
"Yeah, we'd have had to pawn you instead." House stuffed banknotes into his wallet and turned to hail a cab. "Wanna crash at my place?"   
  
Wilson nodded mutely.   
  
It was three AM by the time they stumbled in House's front door. House was all ready to head straight to bed, to try and get some actual sleep before waking up to go to the hospital and scan that tumor (Christ....), but as the door closed behind them, Wilson moved forward to crush House against the wall.  
  
"Waaa?" House mumbled through a mouthful of Wilson's lips, then managed to move his head back a little. "Aren't you tired? Don't you need to get some sleep now?"  
  
"Nuh uh." Wilson shook his head. "Kyle Calloway doesn't sleep at night. Kyle...does _this_."  
  
Hadn't they left Kyle back at that bus stop?--House was about to whine, but Wilson vanished from in front of his face. House looked down, and Wilson was on his knees, and House's pants were undone, and _jeezuschristohmygod_ Wilson-Kyle, whatever--was delivering the most almighty blowjob.

  
_Fifteen years earlier_  
  
Backstage was not in the slightest bit glamorous; the walls were dirty, the paintwork peeling, fixtures and fittings all old and shabby.   
  
A bouncer stood aside without query when they claimed to be friends of Kyle; he'd clearly been told to expect them. Edward knocked at a door marked _Dressing Room No 1,_ and Kyle's deep voice hollered, "Enter!"  
  
They went in to find a small room, badly furnished with a bumpy-looking loveseat and a variety of mismatched tables and chairs. But the furniture was not what drew their attention. Chris felt Edward's whole body jolt next to him, as they saw Kyle opening a bottle of champagne at the side of the room. He was stripped to the waist.  
  
"Cute Lips, Blondie," he hailed them. "Siddown, make yourself comfy. Fizz?"  
  
"Yes, thanks," said Edward, his voice a little more hoarse than a minute ago, and Chris nodded too.   
  
Kyle grinned as he poured, clearly only too well aware of the effect his semi-naked body was having. It was warm, and the shirt he'd been wearing was tossed casually on the back of the couch. Kyle Calloway had a stocky, muscle-defined torso, a little broader at the belly than it could have been, but otherwise impeccable. His sprinkling of chest hair was perfectly offset by his smooth, slightly sweaty back and shoulders.  
  
They each took bubbling glasses, clinked and drank; Chris sipped, Edward glugged, and Kyle downed the lot almost in a gulp. Edward perched on the couch; Chris sat at a table in the middle of the room, and stared at a hand mirror resting face-up on the table.  
  
"Wanna line?" Kyle said, seeing his gaze, and without waiting for an answer, delved into his pants' pocket for a baggie and spilled the contents across the mirror.  
  
Chris glanced at Edward, who pulled a _I'm not gonna stop you but don't think I'm condoning it_ face. Chris shrugged and joined Kyle in chopping white powder into a line. They each snorted in turn, Kyle had a coughing fit and Chris sat back in the chair with a deep breath and full-body shudder; yeah, wow, whew, it had been a while.   
  
"Cute Lips?" Kyle asked, and grinned when Edward shook his head.   
  
Chris stood up and roamed the room, enjoying the high, thinking it was pretty cool to be backstage in the lead singer's dressing room after a concert, even when it was as much of a shithole as this place. Then everything blurred and then came into sudden sharper focus, as Kyle and Edward started necking on the couch. Kyle had pretty cute lips himself, and Chris could see Edward rubbing up against that mustache.  
  
And then, _then_ , Kyle dropped off the couch onto his knees and reached to unbutton Edward's fly. Chris cupped his own crotch as he watched Edward's cock come into view and then disappear inside Kyle's mouth.   
  
Fucking hell this was good. Watching the man he loved sucking a stranger's cock had always been way up there for Chris. Watching a stranger sucking Edward off was even better.   
  
Chris lumbered around the room, dropping his own pants in the process, and stood behind the couch, behind Edward's head. He stroked Edward's hair with one hand, and tugged at his own cock with the other, watching Kyle Calloway below with mouth busy, eyes tight shut and a hand cupping Edward's balls.

  
_Present day_  
  
House pulled himself backwards with a gasp and a jerk, and came all over Wilson's shoulder. Jesus Christ almighty that had been good. All the more so for being unexpected, and at the end of a really long day.   
  
Wilson stayed on his knees for a minute while House regained some semblance of consciousness, then hauled himself to his feet. "My turn."  
  
"Up against the wall? Give a cripple a break." House's leg was emerging from orgasmic numbed bliss to sharp reawakening.  
  
"Okay, bedroom." Abandoning both their pants back by the door, Wilson propelled House past the couch, through to the bedroom.   
  
House flopped down onto the bed face-down, butt-naked, and decided he was sufficiently tired that Wilson, sorry Kyle, could do all the work. He lay breathing shallowly into a pillow, relaxing into Wilson's deft, lubed fingers until he might have fallen asleep; except Wilson's cock was there, pressing against his hip, nudging him awake.  
  
"Do it," House muttered eventually, as the stimulation shifted him from pleasant to wanting more. To wanting to feel Wilson's cock pressing in instead--  
  
\--and there it was. House groaned and buried his face in the mattress, bucking his hips to take it in. He trembled and twitched as Wilson gasped and heaved above, fucking slowly at first, then faster, working his way swiftly to climax.  
  
As Wilson collapsed down onto the bed, he panted, "I would say, don't steal my wallet. If I had one."  
  
House basked briefly in the knowledge that had _definitely_ been better than Wilson's threesome the night before.

  
_Fifteen years earlier_  
  
Chris thought Edward was going to hold off, but no; apparently Kyle's mouth was too good to allow that kind of self-control. Edward groaned and clutched fistfuls of Kyle's hair as he spilled on Kyle's shoulder.   
  
Kyle sat back on his heels, cleared his throat, and could not have looked more self-satisfied. "That good, huh, Cute Lips?"  
  
"Hmph." Edward rested his head back against Chris's stomach. Chris stroked his hair.  
  
"I see you're enjoying the show there, Blondie." Kyle got to his feet, wiping off his shoulder, unbuckling his belt. "Mind if I tap Cute Lips' pretty little ass? Haven't seen one that pretty in a long time."  
  
"If _he_ wants," Chris said gruffly.  
  
"Do it." Edward's breathing had slowed to near-normal now.   
  
"With pleasure." Kyle dropped his own pants, and goddam if his bottom half naked wasn't even more impressive than the top half. Chris stepped back to appreciate the view; Edward wriggled fully out of his pants and tweaked his spectacles off his nose, dropping them onto a side table. At a flick of Kyle's hand, Edward turned around to present Kyle with his ass.  
  
"Whoa." Chris fumbled in a pocket for his wallet, found a condom. He flipped the foil-wrapped square at Kyle, who shrugged in a _if-you-say-so_ manner and sheathed up.  
  
And then Kyle started to fuck Edward, going at it doggy-style with very little preamble. Edward took him just fine and moved along with Kyle's rhythm straight from the off. His hair flopped madly sideways with every thrust. And from the tenor of Edward's moans, it sounded like Kyle was hitting that prostate every time.   
  
The sight was so good that Chris might have kept on watching, except that Edward looked up and caught his eye between hair-flops. Chris held the gaze, and a lethal combination of love and lust burned from his chest up to his mouth and down to his groin.  
  
"Go for it, Blondie," Kyle positively crowed as Chris approached, cock in hand. Edward took him in his mouth readily; Kyle was breathing hard but he didn't let up a beat, and Chris found the same rhythm. Edward rocked from both ends as they swayed to climax together.

  
_Present day_  
  
Post-orgasmic and sprawled comfortably in bed, House felt they should have gone to sleep in a heartbeat. Instead a giant luminous billboard saying COMING SOON - THE ALL STAR CT SCAN seemed to be flashing above them.  
  
"Kyle and I did it like that," Wilson said, apropos of nothing.  
  
"Huh." House didn't really want to hear about the young Wilson's early sexual encounters, but figured there were worse things to be bored by. Maybe it would help him get to sleep.  
  
"One day I went over to his house to watch the game, I arrived on my skateboard with chips and dip." Wilson's eyes were far away. "Got there to find his family were all out and he had other plans. I guess I'd been half-hoping that was the case, but I hadn't realized.... and no sooner were we in the front door then he shoved me up against the hall and... sucked me off."   
  
"Huh." House tried not to sound encouraging.  
  
"And then he fucked me in his bedroom. From behind." Wilson paused. "It blew my mind. I'd never done anything like that before. Not even got close."  
  
"No? Melanie Robbins never let you put your hand up her skirt?" House was definitely starting to feel sleepy now.  
  
"No, I'd never so much dared touch a girl below the neck before." Wilson let out a small puffy laugh.   
  
House suddenly found himself awake again. Then... "Kyle was your first?" And the implication of that... "Guy before girl?"  
  
"Yeah. Jennifer Monroe was my second, much later that summer, after the prom." Wilson let out another laugh. "That was... different. What about you, House? Who was your first?"  
  
"You've asked that before." A truth or dare game, eons ago. "I told you."  
  
"Age fifteen, brothel madam in Indonesia taught you everything you know," Wilson recited. "Yeah, I remember. But who was your first _guy_?"  
  
If everything had been normal House would have brushed off the question, but that CT scan loomed large above and nothing else really mattered anymore.  
  
"Air base in Okinawa, Japan," House remembered. "I was seventeen and curious. He was a Marine pilot, older than me, with hair a bit longer than the regulation buzz cut. "  
  
He stalled briefly; it was funny, he'd shared so much with Wilson over the years, but not that story. Much easier to talk about the brothel madam in Indonesia.   
  
Wilson was silent, listening.   
  
"We did it twice," House went on. "His bunk one night, my family quarters the next. I thought--hoped--it would happen again, but he was so shit scared my dad was gonna find out, he ran like a hare whenever he saw me afterwards. Fortunately for him we were transferred back to the US soon after."  
  
"Fortunately," Wilson echoed.   
  
"Later on I figured out he thought I was going to blackmail him." House thought he'd kept his voice steady and detached, but a bit of old, sad indignation crept in.  
  
"Well, it could have been worse," Wilson said eventually. "You could have split up 'cause he took Melanie Robbins to the prom instead of you."  
  
So _that_ was what had happened.   
  
"Kyle Calloway was a bad boy bastard and we're well rid of him," House muttered.  
  
They sank into contemplative silence, until House heard Wilson's breathing rev to a quiet snore. 

  
_Fifteen years earlier_  
  
A thudding sound woke Chris from his stupor. As he rubbed his eyes, a voice hollered through the door, _"Calloway! Bus leaves in fifteen minutes!"_  
  
"I hear ya," Kyle bellowed back from the other end of the couch, and disentangled himself from the still-sleeping Edward, who had clearly been fucked all the way to the land of Nod. Kyle had a coughing fit as he stood up, but Edward didn't stir.  
  
"Bus?" Chris muttered as Kyle swallowed hard, thumped himself on the chest and moved to bustle around the room, finding clothes. Chris had a ridiculous vision of Kyle sitting waiting at a bus stop in the middle of nowhere.  
  
"Tour bus," Kyle's voice was even more hoarse than before as he stripped off the condom. "Have to leave tonight to get to the next gig tomorrow."  
  
"Ah." That made more sense. Chris imagined Kyle doing this kind of thing all over again the following night, finding another couple of willing men. Or women. Sheesh. "You enjoy... life on the road?"  
  
"Man, I live for it," Kyle said fervently, pulling a clean, ironed, white T-shirt over his head. "Life on the road. Different town every night. Diners all the way, I love me them giant steak challenges. Eat it all and you get it free."  
  
Chris couldn't help but grin. "Rock n' roll." He groped in his pants pocket on the floor for a cigarette.   
  
"And sex and drugs." Kyle flourished a lighter for him. "Plenty of both on the road. Ah, the boy who Cute Lips here reminded me of, he was happy enough to take it up the ass but he wouldn't have so much as a cigarette afterwards."   
  
Somehow this description rang a distant bell with Chris. An encounter several years ago, when Edward had gone back to his wife; picking up that guy who bore something of a resemblance to Edward, the threesome with the complicated boyfriend who had taken a liking to the Harley.   
  
"He wasn't called _Wilson_ , was he?" Chris recalled the name with some effort.   
  
Kyle's eyes opened wide. "Y'know, he was. James Wilson. You know him? I haven't seen him since high school."  
  
"I met him once. Noticed he looked a bit like Edward." Chris decided not to go into detail. Instead he breathed in smoke with relieved gratification, and changed the subject. "That's a nasty cough you've got there."  
  
"Had it ages. Can't throw it off. 'Course I could always cut down on the ciggies, but it gives my voice that rough edge, know what I mean?" Kyle put a hand to his chest. "But some days I wake up and fuck, it really hurts. Guess I should go see a doc, but never a good time, on the road."  
  
"You should go see a doctor." Chris stated the obvious, and moved on to a question that interested him. "Are you really married?"  
  
"'Fraid so." Kyle had enough grace to appear sheepish, but not enough to look ashamed. "High school sweetheart. Mel knows I have to have my music. She's okay back home with the kids, spending my money."  
  
"Much money in this business?" Chris waved the cigarette around the room.   
  
"Naw," Kyle admitted. "Not 'til that day the right agent's there on the right night, and figures we're good enough we could be famous. But y'know, I manage alright."  
  
The bank of Mom and Dad, Chris guessed; Kyle had the kind of arrogance which could come from family money.   
  
"Feel free to stay a while. Nobody should try and chuck you out for at least a few hours." Kyle hefted a bag from the floor, which somehow now contained all the odds and ends of personal belongings that had been littering the room. "Tell Cute Lips I said bye-bye."  
  
"Bye-bye," Chris echoed, and with a mustached smirk, Kyle Calloway was gone.

  
_Present day_  
  
Wilson walked out of the changing room, shrugging on his jacket and knotting his tie. It was just so Wilson, House thought, to put his (hideous) tie back on after a CT scan which had revealed a resolutely unshrunken tumor. It was the evening, it wasn't like they were going back to work now.  
  
"I'll see you tomorrow," Wilson said, turning away.  
  
"Whoa. Whoa." House couldn't believe Wilson was just going to head home. Had he _seen_ the size of that tumor? "I need a whisky chaser right now, even if you don't."  
  
"Alright." Wilson shrugged listlessly and they headed to a nearby bar.  
  
They sat on barstools, not talking much, House gulping beer and whisky while mentally plotting out Wilson's chemo regime. Two weeks on, two weeks off. If Wilson didn't want to do it in the hospital, hey, House had the kit at his apartment still.  
  
"I don't know if I want to have chemo," Wilson said abruptly.  
  
House blinked. "What?"  
  
"I don't know if I want to have any more chemo. I need to think about it. I might just... leave it."  
  
House had been reading up on thymoma in every spare minute. "Then you're nuts. I read about this case, a while ago now, patient put off going to the doctor for his sore throat and chest pain, while his tumor grew and grew to obscene proportions. When he _did_ go, it was too late. He was scheduled for chemo, but dropped dead the day before."  
  
Wilson grimaced.  
  
"Apparently there aren't many patients stupid enough to not get treated for that long," House hammered the point home. "So his doctor wrote a paper and got recognition for it. You're not foregoing chemo just so I can get a publication describing your mammoth tumor and dying days."  
  
"I know the paper." Wilson nodded. "Patient was a smoker and a singer, liked the hoarse voice it gave him. Sad case. Wife and kids." He slid off the bar stool. "Which I don't have. House, I'm going home, I'll sleep on it. I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
"See you tomorrow," House echoed, and watched Wilson trudge out of the bar.  
  
END

**Author's Note:**

> The House/Wilson/Chris threesomes remembered by both House and Chris were in [Let Me Take You To A...](http://archiveofourown.org/works/64197/chapters/84744) and [Gay Bar Two](http://archiveofourown.org/works/64197/chapters/84743).


End file.
